The Dynamic Duo
by withalittlehelpfrommyfriends
Summary: Adam Milligan has a screwy life as it is-so what happens when he winds up mistaken as Enemy No. 1 in the eyes of Olympus?  More importantly, WHY is the son of Poseidon so hot?   Rated T for now-language warning.
1. Prologue

A/N: My first multi-chapter fic! Oh, I'm so happy. :)

It is also the first _Supernatural_/_Percy Jackson _crossover...mmmmm my favorite things! Of course, this had something to do with freakin' Jake Allen Abel, the sexiest beast to grace both _PJO_ AND _Supernatural_.

Tell me what you think.

* * *

The day, predictably, started out like any other.

Not that Percy didn't like predictability. It was a lot better than the alternative—looking over your shoulder for the world to come down any second now—but, to be honest, it was also a little boring.

Give the boy some credit. He did manage to help save the world. That was always a good thing. But blame it on the ADD, or the restlessness, or anything—he was bored. Really bored. So bored he found himself wishing for another near-Apocalyptic death match between him and anyone else just so he could get the hell out of camp.

Chiron sent he, Annabeth, and Thalia on a couple of missions earlier during the year, retrieving more claimed demigods, but it was getting to be winter now, and the magical border of the camp could only prevent so much snow. The road to Camp Half-Blood had been snowed in, upwards of five feet, the week before.

All of this and more is why, when Annabeth shook him awake on a peacefully dull Thursday night with a look of panic on her face, Percy jumped right up with a smile on his face.

Thalia barged in as Percy pulled on armor, knowing from the little intel that Wise Girl left with him before sprinting out the door that there was an intruder. That was always fun.

The expression she wore was more threatening and angered than he'd ever seen on her, which was saying something. "Get that smirk off your face, Jackson," she muttered, voice cracking furiously, like a whip against skin.

Percy just shrugged, ignoring that weird gut feeling and the hairs on the back of his neck foreshadowing the things that came next. "But it's action." He knew the daughter of Zeus had been dying for it, too.

The words rebutting left her lips scathingly as Thalia stormed out of the door, but her tone wasn't what gave Percy the distinct feeling that his lungs had been crushed. The words themselves were what hit him, hail against a tin roof, ringing in his ears and leaving him stunned and deafened for so long that he barely heard Nico screaming for him right outside the Cabin Three door.

"It's _Luke,_ you fuck."


	2. I Get Stalled, Snowed, and Slammed

Chapter Numero Dos!

Tell me what you think!

* * *

So Adam Milligan's life wasn't what one would exactly call 'normal'. Not anymore at least, with, y'know, being eaten alive, dying, then coming back to find both his parents dead, two older, emotionally-challenged half-brothers, and, oh yeah, Angels Versus Demons, starring the Winchesters.

In a nutshell, this second chance at life was a new level of weird.

* * *

When you grow up in the northern United States, there are a few things you get very familiar with. A). Canadians. And B). snow.

Adam knew every type of snow. There was that fluffy stuff, the 'dog-hair' flakes his mom called them thanks to how downy soft they were. He just called them a great excuse for snowboarding. Then, of course, you had the wet, sticky, _snowball perfection_ snow, which, if there was more than ten inches of, typically warranted a day home from school and at least six hours of sledding followed by watching old _Sanford and Sons_ reruns with his mother.

Then you had the packing snow. Snow that didn't stop for days—no, scratch that—snow that stopped just in time to make it rain, and then started right up again, leaving layers of sharp, temperamental ice just hiding in deceitfully nice-looking flecks of white. You could literally cut out a square of this stuff, pack raw steaks in it, and send it from Windom to Tallahassee without a worry in your head that the ice would melt. It took _weeks _for this stuff to thaw.

Lucky him. It just so happened, on his first solo hunt, that _this_ was the stuff he got stuck with. It wasn't as if he figured New York wouldn't have a bitch of a winter season, but he thought that maybe someone up there could take pity on him just this once.

No such luck. Adam Milligan (or Winchester, he guessed) was up a nowhere, forest-lined road without an engine. It seemed that '96 Lexus SCs didn't much like snow, or driving for that matter. It had sputtered out a hundred-some miles out of Manhattan, having the longest, most dramatic car death Adam had ever seen.

Well, at least he brought his coat.

* * *

The trek down this road seemed promising. In the muted twilight he caught sight of a sign for a strawberry farm.

And just as quickly as it had jumped, his stomach dropped.

**CLOSED FOR SEASON**

The water was seeping into his socks by now. "Dammit." Nevertheless, the young man continued. It wasn't as if the car would magically spring back to life, and there had to be someone there during the off season. Every farm had a farmhouse.

The snow thinned somehow the further down the road he got, like the cloud had just kind of listed off lazily. And by the time he reached an opening in the trees, there was only really a light frosting of it on the ground. After the five-ish feet he'd battled through for the last hour, this was pretty nice.

And then a twig cracked, somewhere off his left shoulder.

Instinct Adam wasn't sure he had kicked in, head snapping to the sound and right hand jumping to his gun. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, like he really made a mistake doing this.

But after a few tension-filled seconds of his light eyes scanning the woods and coming up with nothing, Adam relaxed. He didn't move his hand from his gun.

The man continued to walk, not following the street anymore but the smell of strawberries. The scent pulled him up a large hill crowned by a magnificent pine tree. As Adam got closer, a tuft of what looked like fleece—_gold_ fleece, that is—made itself visible through the branches, casting a surreal glow to the already mystical tree.

He was so ensconced with looking at the pine that he hardly noticed the bedlam occurring on the other side of the hill.

Until something hard and metallic slammed into the back of his skull, but then he was out cold.

* * *

Sooooo? What do you think? Good? Bad? Throw yourself out a window, crazy? Drop me a line.


	3. The Gods are Jerks

**_This chapter's is slightly depressing. But, as both Luke's life and the third Winchester's life are, the bad SO outweighs the good _most_ of the time._**

**_Don't forget to comment. :)_**

* * *

It _was_ Luke. Luke Castellan, bane of Olympus, hated by gods and demigods alike, who turned hero in the end. Spread-eagled on the ground in front of Thalia's tree was the one person they never, ever expected to see again.

A wide ring formed silently around the body, every single face expressing the exact thing Percy felt raging and smashing against the inside of his skull. _Di __immortales__. Oh, my Gods. What…?_

After a few moments, all eyes turned to Percy, including Chiron's, though his eyes were less like _"What do we do?" _and more like _"What will _you_ do?"_. He caught his mentor's look, and nodded, trying to catch his breath.

It's funny—he didn't even realize he wasn't breathing until then.

"Guys," he said, pulling along the syllables so everyone understood. "Go back. We'll take care of this. Go get ready for bed."

The few winter campers gave a long last look at Luke's prone form before turning away, following their friends down the hill with an unsteady gait, like the world had just pulled out from underneath them. Percy could relate.

Chiron eyed Percy, looking back at the camp, before Percy waved him along. "I've got it. I can handle this."

_Ican'tdothisIcan'tdothisIreallycan'tdothis. _

The centaur nodded slowly. "Alright." He clopped away after Nico and Aislinn, one of Apollo's youngest.

Percy watched him go, wondering somewhere near the forefront of his mind why he would ever have sent Chiron off in the first place, seeing as this whole fucked-up situation kinda made him want to curl up into a ball.

He turned back to Luke, surprised to see two other forms nearby…until he caught their faces.

Thalia looked about ready to explode. The air around her sparked and snapped violently, like she'd suddenly become a miniature storm cloud just waiting to let loose. She was _pissed. _Beyond that—she looked on the verge of tears, which, in Thalia's book, would just make her angrier. Her electric spear was already clamped in her fingers, debating. She was thinking the same thing as Percy.

"This had better be a fucking joke."

Annabeth, on the other hand, was already crying, and that jealous pull Percy always, _always_ felt when she did this over Luke flared right back up all over again. But it seemed like this crying was different. Annabeth, a girl that would easily punch her boyfriend in the face (trust Percy, he knows), was sobbing, weeping like he had never seen. She couldn't even breathe for a few moments, and just watching it made Percy's eyes sting with sorrow.

It seemed like Percy was the one with his wits most about him as he approached Luke's unconscious body. That didn't really change the fact that he was still wondering what sick kind of gag the gods were playing on them now.

Luke looked just the same as he always did: hair still scruffy blonde, occasionally scarred, tanned skin. The right side of his face, the one facing the sky, was relaxed, like he'd just lain down for a nap instead of being knocked out by the hilt of a sword.

His eyelids fluttered, and Percy's breath caught in his throat. "He's waking up," Percy whispered, not even sure the girls could hear him. "Guys, he's waking up."


	4. A World Record is Reached

**_I can't decide whether or not I like the alternating Adam-Percy chapter POVs. What do you think? _**

**_Drop me a line._**

* * *

When you live a life like Adam Milli—Winchester (sorry, it was still so awkwardly new, like introducing your current girlfriend by your ex's name, something Adam knew about from experience), you learn to roll with the punches, no matter how hard or bizarrely or unexpectedly they might fall.

But even this was a whopper.

The male swallowed hard, not liking the familiarity of having a blade against his neck, no matter just how, er, _different_ this one happened to be. Somehow, this coming near to death thing never got any less frightening. Huh. "Uh, can we talk about this? Percy, right?"

"_Don't talk to him!"_ the dark haired girl standing in front of Adam snarled, all ten fingers clenching so tight around a spear that her knuckles turned white. She hated him with the basest passion imaginable, clearly.

Well. He'd only wandered onto the New York state campsite half an hour ago, and was already hated and pleading for his life. This must have been a record—if he got out, Adam and Dean should really compare stats. "I'm serious, you guys," Adam said, weakly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The boy that was holding the dark bronze sword—yeah, _sword,_ and that isn't mentioning the bizzaro armor—to his neck hesitated, the tip of the blade shivering towards the ground. His green eyes were dark with emotion, and, looking back at the two ladies in front of him, one of them the angry brunette and the other a blonde with just as pissed a look in her red eyes, Adam started to realize something. Whoever they thought he was must have done something _huge_. Huge as in _very, extremely bad_ huge.

But they hadn't killed him yet. That was always good.

"My name is Adam Winchester, okay? I'm twenty years old, go to the University of Wisconsin, pre-med." _Oh, and I was just brought back to life to be an angel condom in the place of my older half-brother after being eaten by a ghoul in the form of my mother._ "Whoever this Luke guy is, he's not me."

The blonde's eyes flashed, like she didn't really want to distrust him, but did by default. "He's lying."

"He must be."

The male kid spoke, voice unexpectedly soft. "Make him swear."

Both girls' eyes shot to him. "What?" the blonde snapped, while the other said "No freakin' way." Adam heard a crack in the air and got the bizarre whiff of ozone.

He watched the kid's eyes turn hard, like Emerald-City-hard. _"__Make him __swear."_

Adam couldn't help it. It must have been something Winchester in him (the entailings of which Sam had filled him in on a few weeks earlier, self-sacrifice and idiocy making up most of it), but after a second, the sass just came leaking out. "Y'know, I'm sitting right here…"

"SHUT UP!" the three yelled in tandem. Adam shut up.

The dark-haired girl glared down at him, as if what she was about to do was going to leave a bad taste in her mouth, before speaking. "Do you swear on the River Styx that you have not come to hurt us? Do you swear you have no plans of betrayal?"

_Betrayal._ That must have been it. The guy they thought he was betrayed them—all three of them. They all looked at him with a glint of desperation in their eyes. "Do you?"

He didn't know what this swearing was supposed to signify, but he went along with it anyway. "I swear. I only came for shelter. Car puttered out a couple miles down the road."

The friends—that was obvious now, that they were friends, with the way they acted—exchanged mixed expressions. "So…" the blonde girl trailed, "so—you really have no idea who we are?"

Adam looked at her. "I've never seen you before in my life."

* * *

_**What was that? Oh, of course-it was Annabeth's heart breaking. Poor girl. **_

_**That's nothing, babe. Wait for what comes next.**_


	5. I Get A Talking To

My fifth, and by far, longest chapter. I add in some _essentials _(you know whooooooo), and I hint a little bit at the bigger plot up in here-see if you catch it!

Make sure to tell me what you think.

* * *

By the seven-day mark, Dean was getting antsy.

It truly was not like his half-brother _not_ to check in—something of that almost-doctor in him was extremely thorough, and it wasn't as if Dean hadn't given him enough time to respond to phone tag. A week was okay for maybe Sam not to call back, but he'd been doing this since age eight. Adam had only been hunting for a year, and this was his first solo.

Adam had left on a Tuesday. By Friday, Dean was already pacing, shoulders hitched. His steps were not exactly placating Sam, either, but at least he had their difficult witch case on his capable researching hands.

Monday night, the case came to a head. They didn't exactly realize that, though, until the dead witch bitch's hex bags under their motel beds wouldn't burn.

Dean sneezed. "Come on, Sammy, let's pick up the pace a bit."

Sam wanted to stick his tongue out. "I'm working on it, Dean," he said tersely, flicking the lighter one more time and hacking out a cough into his sleeve at the elbow. The light went out, and Dean just looked at him. "Sorry," Sam said, not at all feeling the sentiment. He gasped again, trying to cover it up by rekindling the lighter.

The tickling in his throat didn't stop, and he continued to choke out heavy air. Sam dropped the lighter, pulling both hands to his mouth. He felt sticky liquid spray onto them and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what it was.

Dean wasn't faring so well either. Almost instantaneously after he saw the look of horrified certainty on his brother's face, blood started to deluge from Dean's nose at a rate he'd never seen before. He looked down to the abandoned hex bags at Sam's feet, and squeezed his nostrils with his left hand. Seeing as Sam was busy trying to not suffocate on his own blood, Dean took the burning into his own hands.

Red fluid still trickled out from between his fingers, but Dean wasn't anything if not a multitasker, and he ripped his thumb across the igniter on the lighter. He muttered something unintelligible, coaxing the thing to take light, and when it did, he threw it toward the tiny brown sacks, praying to that son of a bitch Cas that they lit.

They did, burning bright blue as Sam fell onto his hands and knees, openly spurting out dark red with every hack. Dean stared somewhat deliriously at his brother, swaying from side to side, face white from blood loss. He nearly fainted before the hex bags were properly ash.

Sam collapsed in relief, almost landing in a puddle of his own blood. "That," he managed to croak after a few moments, "was too close." He hummed in the back of his throat, clearing it.

Dean hoisted himself up the bed he leaned bodily against somehow, crumpling into Jello when he hit the matress. "You think." Though he found it somewhat impossible, Dean didn't even have the energy to chew out his little brother. Before Sam was done scouring his mouth with his toothbrush, Dean was asleep.

* * *

The eldest Winchester woke up groggy, staring at the featureless ceiling above him for about fifteen minutes before forming a complete thought. He had a _bitch_ of a headache.

As if Sam had heard his thoughts, a large glass of water and pair of Aspirin tablets appeared on the bedside table somewhere near Dean's face. "Drink up. We both lost a lot of blood." Sam's bed sighed as he melted into it himself.

Dean did as instructed, watching out of the corner of his eye as his brother exhaled like he was a fifty-year-old chain smoker and not the reformed blood-drinker he actually was. Last night—that was _way_ too close, and both Winchesters were trying to avoid that fact.

They both stayed silent for a moment, ruminating on the single factor that they both knew would have changed the entire course of the night before.

Dean coughed fruitlessly. "Where the hell is Adam?"

* * *

Adam was asking himself the same thing.

He knew what Percy had told him—it was a summer camp for special kids. Not special as in requiring special accommodations, like for kids in wheelchairs or with mental disabilities, no way.

This place—_Camp Half-Blood_—was for children of the _gods_.

You know—Zeus and Poseidon, Athena and all them. And, as stated in the name, they were children of a god and a mortal. Half-bloods, like those half-Muggle, half-magic kids in _Harry Potter_.

The small numbers of winter campers were friendly enough; that was true, except for the dark-haired girl from earlier. Her name was Thalia and she seemed hell-bent on making him feel horrible for ever daring to step foot on this earth again.

The blonde, Annabeth, disappeared not five minutes after Adam woke up, eyes red and puffy. The sight twisted his gut more painfully than it should have. It sucked to see pretty girls cry, especially when you're the one that caused it.

Now, weird shit happened to Adam all the time. It came with the life—and the death—and the life again. But knowing that he just happened to look like someone's worst enemy had seemed extremely unfortunate.

Well, if there were gods like Percy said, then at least he had something to blame besides bad blood.

Percy ended up giving Adam a helping hand off of the frozen ground, albeit hesitantly. Adam took hold of his fingers, a grateful look in his eyes, and yanked his way to his feet, shaking the frost off of his tan jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem." Even though there was obviously a problem. A rock could have seen that. Adam didn't push it.

He instead just trailed after Percy towards a rather large house just down the hill, listening when the kid started to talk. "People are going to look at you funny. Just ignore it."

Adam almost wanted to roll his eyes. "Okay, sure." Tips on bullying wouldn't do much when he could already feel eyes burning right through the side of his face from a small group standing on the other side of a puttering little stream. He lied to himself and said that it must have been the rising sun making the back of his neck hot.

"I think you and I need to have a little chat with Chiron and Mr. D first."

"Who're they?" Adam asked distractedly, scratching his cheek in an attempt to hide his face from the kids.

"Camp counselors—well, the heads, really. They're in charge. And the two of them seem to know _every_thing." Percy snorted. "Chiron does, at least."

The stairs of the house groaned uncomfortably as the pair ascended to the porch, and Adam had a very intense flashback having to do with a food fight in the ninth grade. His palms sweat as he stared at the front door. Somehow, landing himself here seemed a tad bit worse than getting spaghetti in Lisa Masterson's hair.

Percy voiced his thoughts in unnerving clarity. "Don't freak out. First time is always the scariest."

That applied to just about everything that had ever happened to Adam, including the disaster that led him here. "Don't I know it."

* * *

Percy was telling the truth.

He must have been, Adam thought. If anyone could qualify the insanity, it was a man that was half-horse and a man—a _god_—that just totally happened to scare the shit out of him with visions of insanity and a scent of grapes.

Chiron was gentle about the whole thing. He started from what Adam supposed was the beginning—the birth of Zeus. Adam had read Greek myths before, knew the gods and their specialties, and the fight of the Titans. Chiron spoke of the oracles and the Mist and the monsters, and the last bit made the Winchester feel a little at ease.

Then Chiron wound a story about a boy named Luke Castellan. His father was Hermes, lord of messengers, lord of thieves. The Mist didn't hide Hermes from Luke's mother, May—Adam felt a sad pang at her name that he couldn't quite explain—because she saw right through it. Few mortals were granted the gift of Sight, and oftentimes those that were became oracles.

The one oracle that lived in Camp Half-Blood at the time had been dead for quite a time, the spirit still haunting decayed flesh. Adam shuddered at the thought of not being put to rest. May Castellan was strong and confident in her gifts, and when Luke was just months old, she decided to take on the task of the Oracle. There were dangers, that she knew, but she was certain she would face them.

With Luke close by, wrapped up in baby blue and his father's arms, the spirit of the Oracle drove her mad. The Sight became too much for her to handle, but Hermes, as the Olympian he was, could not stay for very long to care for his son and his love. Luke grew up with glossed-over eyes as his only guardians.

Adam's heart flared. The injustice of having to grow up with no guidance outside of a maddened mother made him incredibly angry. It was no wonder why Luke would want to be a traitor.

Then Chiron went on to Luke's escape from his home, how he found Thalia, the angry girl, and not long after, Annabeth. He described their ventures through the country, and how not two years later, they were on the way to Camp, escorted by a satyr named Grover.

"A satyr? Like Mr. Tumnus?" Adam interrupted.

Chiron laughed, warm and genuine. "Yes, quite like Mr. Tumnus, but with a t-shirt."

Adam nodded for him to continue.

The magnificent pine at the top of Half-Blood Hill hadn't always carried the fleece it did now. On the way to Camp, Luke, Thalia, Annabeth, and Grover had come into a problem, namely a few monsters that just wouldn't quit. Thalia, a powerful daughter of Zeus, had sacrificed herself to save her friends on the hill, and Zeus decided that, in order to keep her alive, she should be soaked into the tree. There she'd stayed for years, until a few summers ago when Percy Jackson, a kid from New York, had rested the Golden Fleece in her branches and the tree spit her out.

That made sense. Sitting in a tree for years on end could put anyone on edge.

Chiron paused and said he was getting ahead of himself.

He retreated to Percy Jackson's first summer as a camper—eleven years old, turning twelve, with a record of accidents that stretched from here to Olympus. Grover and even Chiron himself got their hands dirty in this retrieval, Chiron teaching Latin and Grover taking on the role of student and friend. They could tell there was something there with Percy, but didn't want to provoke him into anything rash. Instead, it took a run-in with a Fury and an intense chase with the Minotaur to get him to Camp. With that, the whole world changed.

Luke had been stewing for years in secret. Camp was really the only place he could call home, but the dissatisfaction and rage he had for his father drove him slightly mad. Percy's first summer, in which he had made friends with the older demigod, was the summer that Luke first betrayed Camp Half-Blood and the gods.

He turned instead to the Titans and their monster kin. It was easy to know that Luke was dissatisfied with his army, but the Titan lord Kronos, who had been rebuilding himself for millennia, held a powerful hand over Luke. He furthered Luke's hate for anything Olympian, including the young demigods he used to consider friends, even family.

Things continued like this for five years, coming to a head the year of Percy's sixteenth birthday. A prophecy had foretold long ago that a child of one of the Big Three—Poseidon, Zeus, and Hades, the first Olympian gods—would either be the end or the savior of Olympus. It seemed that Percy had been the one.

Luke, meanwhile, had become Kronos's temporary body.

His _vessel._

Adam decided that the mirror images of not only Luke and Adam's faces, but also their _lives_, couldn't be a coincidence. Things just didn't happen that way.

Luke couldn't be destroyed by anything but a blade in just the right place, like Achilles. Percy and Camp Half-Blood found nothing but distress at this fact, seeing as there was no way anyone but Luke would know where it was. Percy took the curse of Achilles too, to level out the playing field, but the fact remained that Kronos was way more powerful than anything he could come up with. Percy and his friends were backed against a wall, at Kronos's mercy (or lack thereof), when they pleaded for Luke. Luke, who was their friend and hero once, who was stronger than his mother and more merciful than his father, who had the best swordsmanship in a thousand years and who would never give up in a fight if it meant saving his friends.

He fought from the inside. Luke scrambled back to control in order to save the people that he loved, and sacrificed himself by the blade of a knife in his Achilles' spot.

Adam sat and stared at the alternating dark and light grains of the hardwood floors numbly. His back had started to ache from sitting, but it wasn't anything a stretch wouldn't fix. The sun outside had disappeared up over the roof of the porch. Chiron's tail swished, and if any horse's tail could do so sadly, that was the way it happened, the air displaced as a small sigh.

The young man swallowed against a dry throat. "I…" What was he supposed to say? The whole thing was demented. If he hadn't seen the horse-half and Dionysus and the looks on everyone's faces himself, he would have labeled the place an asylum.

Chiron was kind. "It is a lot to process."

"Why would you tell me all this in the first place?" Adam found his words. "I probably won't even stay here."

"There are magic borders around the camp, Adam," Chiron explained, at which Adam tightened his hands around the arms of his chair. A trap. "No one can enter them without having magic in their blood, particularly that of an Olympian parent."

"Only demigods can come in?"

"Yes, and immortals."

Adam looked at him. "I am not a half-blood."

"Nor are you immortal," Chiron guessed. "But these borders can not see faces. They only know what is in your blood. I admit that you are an interesting case."

_An interesting case_. That didn't even seem to cover it.


	6. Everything is Effed

_Early Christmas present, guys! OR, happy late Winter Solstice! Did anyone stay up to watch that moon thing? I couldn't-sleeping and all that._

_Anyway, this chapter was written listening to 30 Seconds to Mars on repeat, so some sadness ensues. It was due time, I think. Okay, enough rambling. **Warning** for cursing and teenager-ness._

* * *

Percy Jackson was not one for melodrama; at least, he thought he wasn't. Crap happens; that was his motto, and it sure rang true a lot of the time. The thing was, crap was not supposed to re-happen. The arrival of a person—Adam, Percy thought, his name is Adam—whom just happened to look like Luke couldn't be just happenstance. Things just don't occur randomly, not in his experience.

He was affected by the guy. And it sucked again, because that happened the _first_ time. Luke was admirable and likable and attractive, and then all of a sudden, he wasn't. (Well, he was still attractive, but when someone's hot _and_ also out to get you and everyone you know, the survival thing takes precedence.) Adam was curious and intelligent and had the same face as his worst enemy.

There was one exception, though, that Percy had noticed with a guilty thrill upon the first time Lu—_Adam_ opened his eyes: they were clear sky blue, not a fleck of gold to be seen. And for some inexplicable reason, that made Percy falter like some lovestruck chick instead of getting the job done. Not that he was in love or anything.

_Imagine—Percy overthinking something_, he could practically hear Annabeth teasing. Percy smiled a bit to himself, but quickly remembered that Annabeth probably wasn't even in the condition to talk to anyone, much less make fun of him. The smile slid off his face. It had been a few hours since the initial shock; maybe after his first weapons class he'd go check on her.

Percy didn't even make it through one lesson. The boy got distracted notching a younger Apollo girl's arrow and nearly took out Chiron's eye, fumbled with his sword, and tripped over his feet attempting to demonstrate a proper javelin throw. The sharp end of the javelin jammed itself into one of the arena's thick wooden benches before Chiron gave Percy a sympathetic look and a not-so-kind shove out of the stadium.

The demigod wandered without direction towards the one thing that always made him feel better—the water. Even from half a mile away, Percy felt the waves pummeling the shore as if despising it for existing, the earth standing impenetrable against it. He could feel the sand meekly floating away, not wanting to get involved in the furious clash between land and sea, and was half-disgusted about how well that fit as a metaphor for his life, while the other half of him was disgusted for thinking in metaphors.

The North Atlantic is dependable only in its temperament, especially in the winter. That part of the sea was typically cold as a bitch from October to April, and at least as mean. Percy got to the beach to see the water and sky around the same color, a portentous gray, and looking as restless and angry as he was starting to feel. It was bizarrely comforting.

Percy toed his shoes off and dug his bare feet into the cool sand. He was starting to get a migraine from all this shit, and Percy cursed to himself. So much for near-invincibility. He wondered whether Achilles got headaches, too, or if it was just Percy. Or if Luke had them.

Percy sat by the water's edge, suddenly exhausted. He flopped backwards like a particularly awkward fish and felt sand burrow into his hair. The kid didn't really care much—he was more focused on letting his eyes slide shut.

The waves were loud, but not loud enough to mask the sound of feet smothering sea grass. Percy shot straight up and whipped his head around from the water, taking in a guilty-looking carbon copy of his old enemy.

Adam shifted his eyes down, scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I'll just…go."

Percy opened his mouth as if to stop him, but no words came out. Adam just nodded, bright blue eyes full of understanding he hadn't possessed before. He took a last glance at the ocean he'd been staring intently at, then turned away, back towards camp.

Percy tried to talk. "Hey," he said, but it came out more like a hoarse whisper. The young man cleared his throat. "Hey, wait."

Adam looked back over his shoulder at Percy, the tips of his ears red with embarrassment though his face showed not a hint of it. He looked surprised that Percy would even want to acknowledge his existence, and Percy kind of had to agree. But it wasn't as if Adam had done any of this on purpose, right?

Percy remembered something about the Midwest—Adam was from where? Wisconsin? "You ever seen the ocean before?"

Adam's cheeks lit up now, shame coloring his face a shade of dark pink Percy had never seen on Luke, or anyone else for that matter. "Nah. It's kinda sad," he chuckled. "Been all around the country, but never close enough to see the Atlantic."

"Well, don't let me stop you from changing that." The dark-haired youth stood, hooking his fingers in the heels of his shoes.

"Percy."

Hearing Adam say his name made the demigod's breath shudder in his chest. He dragged his eyes to the blonde with dread.

Adam appeared downright miserable. "I really am sorry. About Luke, I mean. He—he was a big deal, wasn't he? You can't want me here." He swallowed.

The younger spoke. "You want the truth?"

A dark expression was in Adam's eyes when he responded. "I always do."

Percy nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Thalia Grace was menacing for an eternal fifteen-year-old girl. Percy had gotten used to her prickly ways and dark makeup years before, but watching her reaction to Adam's appearance jump-started all of that fear all over again. The girl was downright terrifying.

"Thalia," Percy said, trying hopelessly to calm down his angrily pacing friend before she zapped him into oblivion. "Please, just chill out."

She shoved the tip of her spear into Percy's face with a disgusted glare. "You're kidding, right? I mean, Percy," Thalia said, rolling her eyes and keeping the sarcasm stingingly thick, "we all knew you were an idiot, but here I was hoping that you would actually grow out of it." The girl yanked the spear out of her now-older friend's face and turned her back on him, facing toward the Artemis cabin door. Her shoulders were shaking in the silvery jacket that seemed to permanently be draped over them, and the glowing air around her half-scared Percy into thinking that she'd explode into a goddess at any second.

Percy could tell that Thalia was gazing across the grass that split the cabins at Cabin Three. He knew that she was looking at Adam, who sat on Percy's cabin stoop rubbing his hands together in the cold, and contemplating whether or not to kill Percy and then kill Adam and bring Percy back to life to kill him again for being stupid.

She spun back on Percy, staring at him from across the empty cabin. The rest of the Huntresses were across the Atlantic in the Forest of Dean, hunting a rare species of stag, but Thalia had crashed at Camp after a particularly difficult Zeus kid retrieval involving giants and one huge trashcan. The bunks were cold and regal, the only signs of any presence of adolescence being the poster of Jared Leto over Thalia's bed and her various clothing articles strewn around. "Perce," she said, the nickname cutting a little. Only Luke had ever called him that. "This is…" Thalia searched. "This is so fucked up."

Percy almost laughed. "Understatement," he responded, standing up from the unoccupied bunk he'd thrown himself into a few minutes ago, fatigued. "But I think we need to hear his side. And he needs to know what Luke meant to us."

Thalia bit her lip, teeth toying with the lip ring she got a year ago. She looked ready to cry, but her posture showed so much tiredness that Percy could guarantee she didn't have the energy to do so. "Maybe you're right, Seaweed."

The son of Poseidon smiled weakly. "Hate it when that happens."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Shut up and come on."

Percy remembered something vital. His hand shot out, fingers grasping Thalia's wrist. "Wait." Percy gulped with guilt. "Gods, Thalia, what about Annabeth?"

Thalia's electric blue eyes opened wide. "Oh, crap."

* * *

Annabeth's cabin was a wreck. There were bits of scrolls all over the place, broken chair legs, dents in the walls, looking like a scene out of a disaster film. Lying lonely in the middle of the cabin, in a circle clear of debris, was Daedalus's laptop, smashed to Hades.

Percy froze in shock at the sight of the laptop, broken and limp. It looked as if someone had put it there to keep it safe, but in the end, it became just as wrecked as everything else in the cabin. He had the instinct to pinch himself, but, looking around at the wreckage, Percy realized that not even one of his nightmares could be this bad.

Annabeth was nowhere to be seen. Percy felt his lungs filling up in panic, getting ready to scream out her name, but a hand slipped over his mouth. He looked over to see Thalia with a finger to her lips. "_Listen,_" she mouthed.

He heard it. A soft, pitiful whimpering strained through the air, and Percy's heart dropped when he recognized the sound. The lump in his throat grew to an unbearable size. "Annabeth?"

There was a shift on Annabeth's bunk, the bed sheets melting into a new shape without anyone shifting them. Thalia moved through the fragments of Cabin Six, coming to a quiet stop at the last bunk in the row. Percy watched as Thalia sat gingerly by the pillow on the bottom bed, unsure whether or not he wanted to see what the invisible Annabeth was trying to hide.

Thalia spoke quietly. "Oh, Annabeth." She rested her left hand on thin air, pulled her fingers through unseen blonde hair. Her right hand pulled up on the brim of the Yankees cap they knew was there.

The girl appeared with her back to Percy and Thalia. She trembled like she'd been kicked, and Percy could feel his eyes burning. Thalia hunched over her, and in one movement had the older demigod cradled in her arms. Annabeth tried to resist, just for a moment, before hiding her face again in her friend's shoulder. "I know," Thalia said, much like Percy's mother would when he was a child, coming to her blubbering with a scraped knee, low and compassionate. "I know, I know."

Percy was finding it harder and harder to breathe in there, the girls weeping into each other's shoulders with a sadness he hadn't ever had the displeasure to see before. He treads silence towards the irrevocably broken computer, swearing to himself that he'd find a way to fix it. Percy swore that he would fix all of this.

* * *

"So you're him."

Adam looked up from his hands, the tips of his fingers red from the cold, to see a boy of maybe eighteen looking down at him with mild interest. The kid was dressed in almost all black; save for the orange Camp Half-Blood counselor t-shirt, and he had a cigarette between the pointer and middle fingers of his right hand.

Adam supposed that he should get used to this reaction. "Yeah. I'm the guy."

The kid's black eyes showed the most humor he'd seen all day. "That sucks ass, dude."

Adam just looked at him for a second, uncertain whether to laugh or go all Winchester-defensive. He ended up chuckling. "Who are you, kid?"

His companion put the cigarette between his lips in order to offer his pale hand to shake. "Nico diAngelo, son of Hades."

Adam took it. "Adam Winchester, son of John Winchester."

Nico's half-smirk nearly dropped off of his face. The little color that was in his cheeks drained to be replaced with shock. "You're a Winchester?"

The blonde knew something was fucked up if a kid he just met already knew about his family. The Winchester defense was sure kicking in now. "How do you know—"

"Save the suspicious game, my friend. Being a son of the lord of the dead means that you know when people manage to dodge the bullet." Nico laughed, cynical. "And I don't know how much your brothers have told you, but Winchesters are turning out to be extremely good at that."

Adam sighed. The kid was definitely right about that. He watched Nico inhale more smoke from the cigarette, the vapor floating cloudlike out from his lips. "You know, smoking is really bad for you."

Nico shrugged. "I know. Want one?"

The youngest Winchester smiled. "Hell yes, I do."

* * *

_Tell me what you thiiiiink. Hopefully I will be able to fit in another chapter by Christmas Day. :D_


	7. Adam's Genesis

_Boxing Day update! I swear-I am on an epic roll here, guys._

_Hope you all had a good Christmas/Kwanzaa/Hannukah/Winter Solstice. Don't forget to drop me a line and tell me what you thought. :)_

* * *

"Why are you here?"

Adam shivered, looking up at Percy from his place on the kid's front stoop. It was starting to get dark and Adam could see their breaths gliding in little puffs through the air. He shoved his fingers in his pockets. Percy's eyes were disturbingly angry; so much so that Adam thought the green was glowing, ready to set the Winchester on fire at any second.

"It's kind of a long story," Adam said. "Long and completely screwed up."

"Yeah, well, I need to hear it," Percy snapped at him, though his hands were shaking. "You know about Luke; now we need to know about you."

The back of Adam's neck prickled with doubt. There was no way he could trust the kid to not be monster stock—they could _all _be monsters. The whole of the camp could just be something fabricated by the angels, another lure to the whole 'Michael' idea. It could be just demons running amok, planning to kill him in his sleep.

He looked at Percy. The kid's eyes were still bright green and irritated, but with a layer of fragility he hadn't noticed before. "Alright. But can we go inside? I'm kinda freezing my ass off."

Percy nodded, motioning for Adam to open the door and step inside.

* * *

Adam wiped his palms on his jeans. For some reason the thought of telling Percy, someone who had no idea about him or his family history, about the events leading to this made him extremely nervous.

He looked across the cabin, staring at the babbling fountain in the back as it gurgled in pleasure, casting a weird watery glow over everything. The lights underneath the water animated waves onto the walls, the vacant bunks, and Percy Jackson's expectant expression.

The kid was pale in the shadows the low light cast, and the combination of that with his already dusky hair made his features stand out in crystal clarity. His jawline was strong and set out in defiance, and like Adam's had a light shade of stubble. His lips were turned down, but dark pink and just slightly chapped. He was slim in his orange t-shirt and midnight blue hoodie, though not scrawny, and his hands were rough looking from overuse.

Adam flushed, realizing that he was inspecting Percy like Dean would a potential one-night stand. He watched his fingers knot themselves together in his lap.

"Where should I start?"

Percy tilted his head. "At the beginning, I guess."

"Well, in the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth."

The corner of Percy's mouth twitched. "I have a feeling your story starts a little bit after that."

Adam shrugged. "Yeah, kinda. I was born September 29, 1990 in a gimpy little town called Windom in southern Minnesota. My mom, Kate, wasn't married when I was born, and she never got married afterwards, either.

My father's name was John Winchester. He—" Adam hesitated. "He wasn't around much, seeing as his job dragged him all around the country. I got to see him on the occasional birthday, but John really wasn't the father type anyway. More like a big brother.

I grew up normally, nothing out of the ordinary. Got in a few car crashes when I was seventeen, which was what led me to apply for the pre-med program at the University of Wisconsin."

Adam stopped, and Percy glanced at him when he swallowed. "Then things started getting bad."

Percy sat up straight in his bunk, all his attention focused on Adam. "Bad?"

The Winchester took a breath. "I got a call one day on the way back from a Bio 102 class that had just kicked the shit out of my brain from the Windom Police Department. My mom was missing.

She worked at the local hospital as a nurse and was supposed to show up for a shift, but never did. So I panicked. Ran home without telling anyone, but somewhere in the drive I thought of John.

When I called him, someone I didn't know picked up. He told me that John died and I almost crashed the goddamn car."

Adam laughed now, surprising himself even more than Percy. "This guy demands to know who I am, and I tell him that I'm John's son. He didn't believe me.

I met him and this other guy at my favorite diner in town, right? And they look at me and say right in my face that I _can't_ be John Winchester's son. They tell me that _they_ are his sons."

"Wow," Percy murmured. "Were they really your brothers?"

Adam's spine tingled unpleasantly at the thought of what came next. "I thought so, but I didn't get the chance to find that out just yet. I was…preoccupied that night."

Percy raised his eyebrows, but Adam shook his head. "Not in a good way."

"What happened?"

Adam had a sudden and sickening flashback to his mother—at least, something that looked a lot like her. He remembered screaming so loud and so hard that his whole body hurt, his muscles straining and his blood _everywhere_. In his eyes, in his mouth, his lungs, all over his arms and legs and drying on his face, sticky between his fingers and under his back, making the ropes that tied him down slick and rank. He remembered begging and pleading for his life from the monster that looked like his mother, delirious as she carved into him with wild abandon. A hand floated to his stomach as he remembered the thing opening him up, collarbone to pelvis. The thing had gone to town on his insides in ways that he didn't even know were possible.

He jerked back to reality when Percy's face appeared close to his, eyebrows signaling confusion. "—you alright?" He watched Percy relax in some type of relief when Adam focused on him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "I lost you for a minute there."

Adam cleared his throat, embarrassed. His eyes must have been misting over, because when he gazed back at Percy, he couldn't see the green as clearly. "Yeah. No. 'M fine."

Percy exhaled, air warm and somehow bracing on Adam's face. He spoke softly, and sat down next to Adam on the mattress. "You weren't kidding when you said your story was fucked up, were you?"

Adam shook his head. "Not at all." He thought about stopping the story there, not even trying to go on, but without Dean and Sam and the angels, his reason for being here was incomplete. "I had a brush with a monster. It would suffice to say that it was pretty bad."

The kid didn't try to dwell on it. "I understand."

"And after that, my brothers and some of their friends found me." _Friends_. Adam scoffed to himself. "Which ended in me joining the family business."

Percy asked what Adam expected him to. "What is the 'family business?'" He snickered quietly. "You're not in a mob, are you?"

Adam smiled. "Not really. We're hunters."

"Hunters?"

"Monster hunters."

Percy looked appalled. "Why the hell would you want to do that?"

"I didn't really have a choice," Adam admitted. "Plus, you don't do it because you want to—you do it for family."

The demigod blinked, clearly not registering it. "That…is kind of crazy." He corrected himself. "I mean, I've done some insane stuff for my own family, but…it's not as dangerous for me."

Adam gave him a look. "Because of the gods? Well, we have some insurance, too."

Percy had something rebellious in his expression, but he stopped short at Adam's comment. "What?"

The youngest Winchester stared defiantly back. "We have help, too."

Adam started when Percy reached for his pocket, clawing for something. When he pulled his hand back from his pocket to show a pen, Adam settled, though there was a sense of danger prickling in his brain. There was an unexplainable familiarity about the pen, though it was clearly one-of-a-kind, and he'd never seen it before.

"What kind of help?" Percy's voice had an edge to it.

Adam smirked. "I'm not sure you'd believe me."

Percy snorted. "Try me."

* * *

How Percy found himself treading through the woods with a suspicious Winchester, he had no idea.

Well, that was kind of a lie. He remembered Adam telling his story, his affected look. He remembered Adam revealing, with some shiftiness, that he and his brothers had _help_ in their monster-hunting business.

Percy also recalled the way Adam looked in the low light. His eyes were dark blue from the shade, and every now and then a chunk of blonde hair would fall into his eyes, fingers with dirt under the nails pushing it back out of his line of vision. His eyelashes were long and light, and reminded Percy so much of Luke that he had to dig his fingernails into his palms. Adam's cheeks flared pink when Percy touched him, and as Percy recollected the way it looked across his face, he realized that he sort of wanted to see it again.

The demigod snapped back to reality when he walked straight into something solid. He muttered something sulfurous into the wall before comprehending that it was soft—the back of Adam's jacket.

"Sorry," Percy said, barely able to talk with all the blood rushing to his face. He could feel his skin burning from the collar of his shirt to his hairline.

Adam didn't look offended. Quite the opposite—he was grinning, his own cheeks slightly red. "Buy me dinner first, kid."

Percy looked away. "I'm not a kid," he said petulantly.

He heard Adam's laugh as they broke through thick trees into a clearing. "I know that." He kept striding toward the center of the grass, and Percy observed in wary curiosity.

Once Adam reached what Percy guessed was the center, he stopped and turned back to the son of Poseidon. "Ready?"

Percy tightened his grip on Riptide. He popped off the pen cap, satisfied to hear the _ssch_ of the blade as it materialized. He looked up from the bronze to see Adam with an odd expression on his face.

After a moment, the Winchester just shrugged. "Okay, then."

Adam tilted his head towards the sky, neck long and glowing in the light of the moon. "Cas," he called, the muscles in his throat stretching, "I need a big favor. I have someone to introduce you to."

After only a nanosecond, there was a deep retort, originating from near Adam's place in the clearing. "Your brothers have been searching for you."

Percy jumped. Next to Adam stood a man in a tan trench coat with bright blue eyes and a crooked tie. The young man hefted his sword in his hands.

Adam shook his head at the man. "We'll deal with them later. Right now, I have to introduce you to someone." He motioned for the Cas guy to look at Percy. "This is—"

"Perseus Jackson," Cas interrupted. "I know." He turned his searchlight eyes to Percy, and he felt a cold shiver under the man's stare. "He is the one to help you discover your destiny."


	8. Shit Gets Real, Kinda

Newest chapter, boys and girls! (Actually, probably mostly girls. Though, if I have any dude readers, insight into the male psyche would make this story a bajillion and one times better. Just saying.) Hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and since I've forgotten it in every chapter before now-none of this crap belongs to me. I mean, I totally wish it did, so I could have a hot three way with Adam and Percy, but since it doesn't, I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming.

* * *

_The first time Adam went out on a date he was sixteen years old. It was with Marley Jacobs, the blondest, hottest girl in the tenth grade with great big blue eyes. They went to the movies and saw…well, he can't exactly remember that, seeing as Marley's lips were at least as captivating as her eyes, and they sure as hell entertained him more than any low-budget horror flick would. _

_It was warm that night, and while he walked Marley home, she chattered without cease. Most of it flew in one ear and out the other for Adam, seeing as his mind was muddled. Making out with Marley had been his dream for who knows how long, spoiling sheets embarrassingly often and replacing note taking in his honors classes. So why in the hell was he starting to wonder what Logan, the new guy and his partner in Chem I, the one with that blinding grin, was doing right then?_

_Adam happened to be looking when Marley dropped the blonde chunk of hair she'd been coiling through her fingers, a look on her face that forecasted nothing but bad. "Adam, have you been listening at all?"_

"_Yeah," he lied, and to his own ears it sounded convincing, but her face dropped further. "Come on, Mar, of course I have."_

_Marley's expression wasn't so much angry as disappointed. "Adam. I'm not as stupid as I act." Her face was solemn._

"_What?"_

_The girl sighed, long-suffering. "I'm not as stupid as people think I am. I only act that way…so people will like me." She looked up at Adam, eyes crystalline. "I'm in the freakin' rocket club for Christ's sake. I get private science tutor sessions because I'm hoping to do early decision for pre-med at Stanford."_

_Adam was suddenly more interested in Marley than ever. "Really?" He wondered for a moment why a girl would want to hide her intelligence like that. "Why would you ever want to do that?"_

_He caught the piercing look in her eyes. "Why would _anyone_ want to hide who they really are?"_

_Adam swallowed, grateful to glance over the girl's shoulder and see the Jacobs' two-story Colonial house. He reached up and tucked a rogue piece of hair back behind Marley's ear. "You really shouldn't pretend to be something you aren't."_

_Marley caught his hand, and smiled even as her lips said something drastic. "Neither should you."_

_They said goodnight, and the block-and-a-half it took for Adam to get home filled him with questions he was not sure he wanted to find the answer to. He greeted his mother, who had waited up, and sent her off to bed before climbing underneath his own sheets. _

_He stared at the cell phone on his bedside table for almost an hour before snatching it up. Adam bit his lip in anticipation after he sent the text._

_Logan; 11:49 PM:_

_So I guess it didn't go so well._

_Adam hesitated. _

_Logan; 11:53 PM:_

_Next Friday? Count me in. ;)_

_The second date Adam went on, he was sixteen years old, and it was with Logan Lancing, the smart new boy from his Chemistry class. He had dark eyes and dark hair, but the brightest smile ever._

Adam started, surprised by the clarity of his flashback. His mind had been elsewhere for the past hour while he stared up at the cavernous ceiling above his head, and while he did enjoy thinking about his first foray into bisexuality, it caught him off guard.

Perhaps there were lead paint chips floating around in this room of the Big House causing this weird, off-topic reflection. Or maybe he was just finally losing his mind.

He _had_ been thinking about what the hell Cas had been trying to say earlier in the clearing. Something about destiny and blah blah blah, but all of a sudden, before Adam even had the chance to ask any questions, the angel was gone, leaving the youngest Winchester cursing to thin air.

Adam had been a little wary of how Percy might react, but watching the exchange between Adam and the angel had left the kid slack-jawed and non-combative. He didn't threaten to kill Adam with his sword—that was always good—but he also didn't say anything the whole way back through the woods to his cabin, dazed. That might not have been so good, even though the wide-eyed look really suited him.

The pre-med student in Adam stuck around long enough to check that Percy wasn't in shock before retreating out to the field in front of the cabins, feeling the slightest bit like a child lost in a grocery store. Where was he going to sleep?

As if he had heard Adam's thoughts, Chiron clopped up and insisted that he come with him to the Big House. There were plenty of rooms there that he could stay in for as long as he needed to.

Adam was grateful, if still a bit guarded. He took the room at the top of the second floor staircase in case he needed a quick getaway, and he slipped his gun under his pillow. Nevertheless, the mattress was warm and comfortable, and the stress of his day either melted away or he was falling asleep quicker than he realized. The house groaned and creaked with age, but eventually the complaints faded into a low rumble, like thunder.

* * *

The Winchester jerked, realizing with a jolt that he wasn't in his bed anymore, but on a busy street. Bright yellow taxis and cars zoomed across the lanes, and heavy rain kept people rushing past him on the sidewalk, umbrellas in hand and raincoats donned.

One cab slowed to a halt right in front of him, and a man in a long tan coat stepped out, his collar turned up toward his ears.

Adam instantly recognized him. "Cas?"

The angel seemed to ignore his presence, though, squinting under the lights of a faded gray awning. He strode down the carpet underneath it, a careless toss of the wrist knocking out the doorman and unlocking the unassuming silver double doors. He entered the building, and Adam had no choice but to follow, sparing a worried glance at the old doorman before realizing where exactly he was.

A huge gilded picture of an old-fashioned skyscraper took up the wall opposite from Adam and Cas. It was juxtaposed on a map with the northeastern United States—Pennsylvania, Connecticut, New Jersey, and New York. A star that signified New York City's position glittered in bronze, and the words 'Empire State' in gold made Adam's face crack into a huge grin. "Awesome."

Cas's shoes clicked against the black and gray marble of the huge foyer, trenchcoat flapping behind him like a pair of wings, as he neared the desk underneath the mural. The man behind it was reading a magazine and around eighteen, shaggy brown hair in his eyes. When he noticed the pair coming across the empty room, the magazine slipped out of his hands, slapping the desk almost as loudly as his jaw. "Wh—How did you get in here?"

The angel stopped just short of the desk's edge. His eyes were glowering in that weird way he had—the way that Dean would sort of stare at sometimes but deny whenever Adam brought it up—and the kid gulped visibly. "I think you know. And since you _do_," Cas pressed, "you know what I need."

The kid's eyes flicked around, but didn't even stop on Adam. "Alright, alright, jeez." He scrambled for a drawer on his left side and snatched out a plastic card. Cas held out his hand, and the boy gave him a desperate "please don't get me fired" before the angel took the card and swept toward an elevator.

Adam followed, sensing that by now he really didn't have a choice. Cas's stance in front of the panel of buttons looked ill at ease, if that was at all possible, and that wasn't exactly reassuring either.

Cas slid the card into a slot above all of the buttons, and with a whooshing noise, the elevator rose at a thousand miles per hour. Adam felt as if he should be flailing and flat against the floor thanks to the G forces, but like Cas and his unruffled expression, he was fine.

The elevator zoomed for a minute or so before the doors opened with a pleasant chime, as if saying, "This was the Empire State Elevator of Doom. If you survived, have a nice day!" Adam grumbled at the ride and the suddenness of the stop before realizing that Cas had strode out ahead of him.

Into a city.

In the clouds.

Over the Empire State Building.

And all of a sudden, this was a new level of fucked up.

* * *

_It's short, I know. But a tight school schedule totally screws over my mojo. Expect a part two. Soon. (Hopefully.)_


	9. And You Thought Your Life Sucked

_**Oh, God! I fell off the map! How did I get back? And then Fanfiction was all screwy for a couple weeks. Jeez.**_

_**This is inexcusably short, guys, and I'm sorry. I HAD to put something out because I had not done so in so long! No excuses, but more should be coming more often nowadays.**_

* * *

Adam was fairly sure that what he was doing was not what he should be doing, that something extremely illegal and/or dangerous was going on. Instinct or whatever. But nevertheless, once he caught his breath, he continued.

The Winchester sprinted to catch up to Castiel, who had already strode about a half-mile into the city in the sky.

To say the place was beautiful was probably the hugest understatement Adam could ever make. A single word didn't seem like it could even begin to encompass what was going on here. People that were more stunning than any he'd seen before seemed to overflow on the streets, all busy, all smiling on the gilded lanes. Women of every complexion and every shape and men of any stance greeted one another as they did chores, carried baskets with resplendently colored laundries or delicious-looking grapes and olives inside. They all looked curiously at Castiel in his gliding coat, but again, paid no attention to Adam in his close pursuit.

Cas trekked through the city, leaving stunned whispering in his wake as well as a confused Adam, not slowing until he reached an enormous temple.

The angel paused outside of the doors in hesitation, stretching his fingers nervously. Adam was a little shocked at the humanity of the action, but didn't try to mention it. He was getting the feeling that even if he did, Cas wouldn't hear him.

Adam's neck prickled. If the wrath of Heaven was wary of what he was getting into, then Adam could be sure he had something to worry about. Castiel placed his hands on either side of the door seam, pushing in the giant oak panels. They gave way to a room even grander than the rest of the city, adorned in gold and bronze, and about the size of Cowboys Stadium.

The kid had never felt less significant in his life than the second that he entered that room.

Like he'd been with everything else, Cas was not at all rattled by the sheer enormity of the space and its opulence. He was instead focused on the stares of twelve people, all sized to fit the room, sitting pretty on twelve separate massive thrones.

Castiel bowed first to the man in the gray pinstripe suit, who sat at what seemed to be the head of the rows. "Lord Zeus."

The giant man looked at him curiously, and Adam could feel electricity spiking around in the air, all mixing with an extremely potent sense of déjà vu. He felt all of the blood rush out of his face, the back of his neck prickling and sweating in total discomfort. "And who might you be?"

The angel smiled back at the god without a hint of fear, which obviously caught the god off guard. "It seems your memory has become blurred since last we met, my brother."

Adam's eyes landed on a single throne, one somehow distinct from all the others. It was dark, off-gray rock that looked rather uncomfortable if you asked him. His palms grew sticky. The arms of the chair came to their ends in busts of rams, horns curling sinisterly around their ears.

The man on the throne got his attention last. He sat like all the others, forward with open, eager interest lighting up familiar features. The god had a fully mischievous look in his bright eyes. Hermes.

Adam's heart stuttered and puttered like a dying car in his chest before rolling to a stop.

* * *

His life flashed before his eyes.

Adam didn't really remember being born, of course, so that part was all a blur—but after that, he remembered. He saw his mom smiling at his tenth birthday party, the first one he'd ever had. Her eyes were shiny.

He saw her again, waving from the front porch as Adam sat in the front seat of the Impala, another first. His father waved back out of the windshield, hands rough, and Adam could feel his face stretching wide in a grin as the car roared to life under his own, newly-capable hands.

He saw snatches of high school—his best friend, Alex, and their misadventures, including a car crash that involved a lot of alcohol and the school mascot's uniform; his first girlfriend, Sarah, and then his first boyfriend, Logan; getting accepted to the University of Wisconsin; graduation. He went to college. He got a new girlfriend. He was happy.

Then he remembered.

Adam screamed, and whether it was real or not, it rang in his ears as he watched his death. He could feel it like there were freshly cut wounds in the same old patterns, skin splitting and blood everywhere once again. Every cell in his body shrieked. His eyes rolled back in his head and his lungs were on fire.

Things changed again, faster than Adam could utter another suicidal syllable.

Now, something else was happening. Adam could see things changing, morphing, mutating into something new. He watched in detached curiosity as another blurry time passed, colors seeping into one another and a single, monstrous flash, before a scene settled in front of his eyes.

He felt a terrified flash scurry down his spine, though at what, he wasn't quite sure. The dining room he stood in was eerie and familiar, the stench of burnt food clogging his nostrils. Through the doorway, he could see an elderly woman bent in the direction of the stove, hauling blackened cookies out of the oven. Over the sink in the corner, pictures of Hermes hung like a shrine. The woman turned around to Adam, a wide smile on her face. Her eyes glowed, an inhuman green. "My boy."

Adam choked. "Mom?" His voice felt different.

"Yes, Luke, you silly child."

He ran.

Adam saw even more after that. He saw his first meeting with a monster, the day he met Thalia, and the night the pair had found little Annabeth in a dark alleyway, all ratty gold hair and plaid pajamas. He remembered giving that little girl his old bronze knife, and the way her face lit up. That second, with Annabeth's huge gray eyes staring up at him, he felt like he was _adored_.

He was adored. Adam was loved by his companions, burrowed and buried into their hearts. He felt better than he ever had alone, and certainly better than he ever felt around his mother.

But monsters caught up with them, and were more murderous than he ever could have expected, and when he prayed at night it was to someone he became surer every day would not answer. There was a point at which he just stopped trying.

That was when things shattered.

Monsters caught up with them, and nothing that this protector they were sent did would be able to stop them this time. Adam's spirit broke, even as he dragged his companions up the hill with him. He cried out, desperation racking his every syllable, to his father. "HELP US! PLEASE!" Annabeth's now-older eyes pooled with tears while her knife slashed open their own rivers of ichor and dust. Thalia sagged in his arms while clutching at her ribs, blood dark and thick, seeping from beneath her fingers. Grover screamed over the hill for more help.

Help didn't come nearly soon enough. Thalia flagged, her breathing shallow, and Adam, helpless to do _anything_ could only rest her against the large pine tree at the top of the hill and turn back to the monsters with a snarl. A poison raced through his veins, filling up his entire being, every single thought of his previous desperation gone. He became fearsome, an absolute terror with the sword. He wouldn't need help. Not from his father.

* * *

**_Don't forget to tell me what you think!_**


	10. I'm Handsy

**So here you go. Redux of Luke's death scene...because it had sooooo much potential for this pairing. :D**

**I'm getting back on track here! And don't forget to drop me a line. You like the story? Tell me so!**

* * *

_For just a moment, Percy was without any sensation whatsoever. He floated there in the ether for Gods know how long, eardrums flattened by the blast and the space between his eyes and his eyelids glazed over with the afterglow. With a flash and a bang, the Lord of Time was gone._

_Then Percy opened his eyes. He saw a shattered demigod._

_Without a second of hesitation, he dropped to his knees. Luke Castellan lay spread-eagled in Kronos's ground zero, the marble circling him charred all to Hades like some horrid crown. No one would ever realize how appropriate that was._

_Luke's eyes were back to that inescapable North Atlantic blue, and they looked wistfully up at the dome ceiling before stumbling across Percy. They fumbled, desperate, staring at the other demigod only long enough for Percy to register it before he looked away. His left side leaked blood into a dark pool on the marble. "That's a good blade."_

_Percy's body was numb. He watched a creek of blood wind its way down Luke's cheek. He watched Luke's fingers twitch toward him as if they couldn't help themselves, yearning for the touch. He watched Luke staring up at him and could feel his warm breath falter._

_Time lurched forward as Annabeth and Grover approached, their arrival tearing Luke's eyes away._

_Percy could feel again when Luke wasn't gazing up at him. He rocked back on his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. Percy felt cold, like he was the one bleeding out on the cruel stone and not Luke. More accurately, he felt like he'd been stabbed instead, a knife blade in his lung, his heart. He was sure for a moment that the floor of the throne room had just fallen out from underneath him and that he was tumbling through the sky without a parachute, speeding towards becoming a grim splattering on the ground. Percy's breathing shuddered in his chest._

_Annabeth said something. "You always pushed yourself too hard." Percy heard the sadness, thick in her voice, and agreed. Luke pushed everything too hard—including everyone else, shunting them as far away as he could. The son of Poseidon's eyes smarted, prickly at the corners and melting shapes together in the middle. _

_Somehow, Luke found the strength to lift his fingers toward the sky. Annabeth cocooned them in her smaller hand, knowing he didn't have the energy to keep them up on his own. His eyes rested fondly on her for a moment before finally, in the halting and morose pace of a funeral march, dragging themselves back to Percy. _

"_Did you… Did you love me?" His throat closed. Luke's eyes were wet. He was _crying._ That alone gave Percy the distinct feeling that his heart just exploded, sickly and wretched, dripping everywhere, chunks scattered to the winds._

_Annabeth, the beautiful girl Percy was always so sure he was in love with, didn't see. She herself looked at Percy, as if he could take more. She said yes to Luke, but only as her own flesh and blood._

_Luke still stared up at the dark-haired demigod. Percy didn't think to take his eyes off this man, the one man who had been everything without Percy even realizing it. A mentor, a nemesis, a savior, a killer. And the single person in the world Percy could never have because he never thought he could._

_It was too late, just too late. Years too late. Even just seconds too late. Every breath Luke took brought him closer to death. _

_Luke gazed._

_And Percy, choking on bottled-up tears and realization, nodded to him._

_Luke died._

Percy jerked awake. His forearms shook violently for almost a minute before he realized he was clenching his fists hard enough to break the skin of his palms. He released the starchy white sheet from his fingers, frowning down at the tiny crescents of crimson that stained it.

The vividness of his dream caught the demigod off guard. He literally replayed Luke's death in his mind daily—even more so with the arrival of Adam—but he had never remembered it with such detail. It was unsettling.

Unable to fall back to sleep, Percy tumbled out of his bunk, following the ripples of ethereal light on the walls to his fountain, still bubbling and happy. The gurgling soothed him slightly, the son of Poseidon dipping his hands in the cool water and closing his eyes.

Clicking horseshoes preceded Chiron on his way up to Percy's cabin. The clattering was ominous—it was as if now that Adam had arrived, the mentor would never bear good news again, just one bad thing after another. Percy didn't even need to look at Chiron to know he was feeling the same way, his shadow on the whitewashed wall forlorn, shoulders sagging. The centaur sighed.

"Is it him?" Percy asked, wondering at the fate of Luke's doppelganger. Adam seemed to be having some serious problems before he even got to camp. Maybe his friend—that Castiel guy—wasn't really a friend after all. Percy's stomach dropped at the thought.

A weight fell to the demigod's shoulder. He glanced over Chiron's huge hand. The look on Chiron's face was not promising. "I think you should probably see for yourself."

* * *

A pair of gilded doors slammed open, a menacing figure storming out from behind them. The storm of fury didn't seem to have any effect on the single other occupant of the room, who stood on the dark marble with inhuman stillness.

"HOW DARE YOU?" the angry man roared at the other, voice echoing in the clinically pristine dome. "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS?"

"Calm yourself, brother."

"STOP!" Hermes looked like he was ready to explode—literally. Bursts of light leaked from his mouth and eyes while his chest heaved in rage. "You are not my brother!"

Castiel stared back at him, eyes cold. "Yes, I am. Search your memories. Your position as messenger affords you an even more comprehensive memory than your…father." The angel almost snorted at the descriptor for Zeus. If only they knew.

Hermes still had the expression of a jilted man. "You do not have the right."

"To the contrary," the angel lilted, unconcerned with the atomic bomb of anger the god was bound to burst into at any second, "I have every right." His glance hinted at something, blue and definite.

The god stuttered, taken aback, eyes wide with fear. "N-no. It can't be. He isn't…"

Castiel looked very nearly sad for a moment, staring back at Hermes. "I'm sorry. If I could have stopped it, I would have. Things are getting out of hand."

"Not again!" Hermes cried, dropping his head into his hands. The bursting lights intensified, ripping at the edges of the god's human-sized form and slipping out. Castiel did not look away. "Not my son!"

* * *

The sight that reached Percy's eyes upon entrance to the infirmary was not a good one. Adam lay spread-eagled in a gruesome recreation of Percy's dream on a cot, face covered with a light sheen of sweat and stuck with the expression of a dying man.

Percy swallowed hard, getting rid of the thought of Luke. "What happened?"

"We're not quite sure yet," Chiron said, moving around the cot to stroke Adam's forehead with the gentle touch of a healer. "But I awoke hearing his screams. And now it seems that he won't wake."

The son of Poseidon couldn't seem to tear his eyes off of Adam's prone form. He sighed. "Why did you bring me?" It wasn't as if he needed more to be thinking about.

Chiron's gaze was serious and sad. "Because he called for you."

As if on cue, Adam's body started to twitch—only slightly at first. Then, like a sudden storm, his whole body started to convulse, arms and legs straightening as if they were tied down.

"NO!" Percy jumped into the air when Adam screamed, taken aback and rather frightened by the desperation in his tone. "PLEASE! MOM, HELP ME!" Adam's head heaved from side to side as if he was looking for someone. "DAD!" He cried the title like a last resort, his only hope. "HELP ME!"

When Percy thought Adam was finally done, a bloodcurdling shriek left the man's mouth. It was the cry of a man about to die—Percy had heard that enough times before to know it.

The look on Adam's unconscious face was too much for Percy to take. He stretched his fingers out in some sort of half-hashed out comforting gesture and touched Adam on the shoulder.

Percy noticed Chiron gaping at him in disbelief before he even realized that Adam had stopped screaming. The silence was almost as loud, especially with the all-knowing glance from his mentor. He almost didn't hear the sheets rustling.

Adam made a sleepy sound. He rubbed at his eyes, rolled his shoulders. And all Percy and Chiron could do was stare. The demigod watched the sheet over Adam slide down his torso, revealing intense knife scars.

The Winchester caught Percy's eye and had only begun to grin when the sleep and smile slid off of his face, all of the color there going with it. He was jammed looking at Percy, horror growing on his face. The hair on the back of the demigod's neck stood up. "Who am I?"

Chiron gave Percy a desperate glance across the cot. "Your name is Adam Winchester."

"I know. But which one am I?"

* * *

**GAAAAAAASP. **

**Okay, my work here is done. Time for some Merlin slash! Tee hee. :D**


	11. What's My Name, Again?

A lithe alley stretched herself between two darkened brick buildings, one an abandoned warehouse and the other an empty apartment complex. She was content there, with one light, yellowed and crooked with age, flickering at her toes, the sounds of the city dying in the night.

She was startled by the presence of a small tabby. He turned the corner at full speed and streaked down her body through the darkness, only pausing at the streetlight to turn and hiss offensively. His fur stood, defiant of gravity, straight up on his arched back.

An unfamiliar chill overtook the alleyway. The cat bolted as the alley shivered. A man—not a completely uncommon sight, the alley told herself—strode leisurely down her length, hands in pockets, face cast in shadow.

He, like the cat, only came to a stop underneath the lamppost. And what the alley witnessed there on the man's face was horrifying. The man had blisters all over his skin, open and bloody, but that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part—the part that the alley would never be able to tell about—was his eyes. Cold, dead, and impossibly evil, they held no esteem for anything: no respect for the dead, nor awe at the powerful, nor feeling of remorse.

They were the eyes of the Devil. And they had plans.

* * *

Adam really had to hand it to himself. He seemed to be fitting into the Winchester heart-breaker mold flawlessly. Judging by the completely shattered look on Percy's face, he may have even perfected it. The demigod looked as if all the blood had been drained from his body, face white and eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

Gods, Percy's face was a welcome sight after all he'd just seen; gorgeous green eyes under that ridiculous black fringe, so damn familiar. His hair had grown since the last time Adam saw him.

But, wait, no it hadn't. Adam had literally just seen him a few hours ago. And, wait, _Gods?_ The boy's throat went dry. "Um." He coughed. "I'm not…I don't know who I am."

Adam paused. That wasn't really correct though, was it? He remembered all of his life. Only, he could also remember someone else's. "Well, I do, but…" he hesitated, looking up at Percy and Chiron, an oddly warm feeling low in his stomach. "But I remember you. I remember everything."

Chiron's eyes flashed in recognition. "Gods help me." Yet Percy couldn't hide his confusion. "Of course you remember us. You just saw us; you just met us."

Adam closed his eyes to Percy's worried face just to see another, younger version of the boy grinning at him from across the point of a sword, blasted dark hair in his face—stunning. "No," Adam said, when he opened his eyes again, reaching out to pull a long chunk of Percy's hair into his fingers. He'd always wanted to do that. Adam stared up at Percy and absently stroked the boy's cheek with his fingertips. "Perce, I remember you."

Percy jerked back and away from Adam's hand so fast he nearly tripped over his feet. He looked at Adam as if he was a ghost, whole body trembling violently enough for standing to be near impossible. He retreated until his back was against the wall of the infirmary, as far away as he could possibly be from Adam. It gave the Winchester a kind of ache to think of that.

The demigod's eyes, now frightened, flicked away from Adam to look at his mentor, and then came back as if they were afraid to shy away. "Holy shit." Percy's voice broke on the first syllable. He put the knuckles of his right fist to his mouth and slid down the wall, and once he reached the floor, Percy let his head fall into his hands.

All the same, Adam couldn't bring himself to look away from the kid. He remembered all too clearly looking up at Percy as he was bleeding, struggling to memorize each and every feature of the boy before he lost consciousness. No, Adam decided, if this was just a fluke, then he would make sure he spent every passing second devoted to making things up to the young man, and he would start by making sure Percy knew how much he loved him.

Adam stopped breathing. _Love_ him? Adam barely knew Percy! He was undeniably beautiful, that was true, but love was a long way away from their previous flippant flirtation. But, oh, did it feel like a lie when he told himself this. Adam adored the demigod. Didn't he?

Chiron was the one who first broke the silence. "I would think it wise for us to discuss this…alone?" His question pointed itself more toward Percy.

The demigod raised his face to the centaur, a look Adam couldn't decipher on his face. Chiron gave a silent nod to him and continued.

"Would it be correct for me to assume that, in addition to the memories of your life as Adam Winchester, you have memories of another life? A life as Luke Castellan, son of Hermes?"

_Luke._

The name fit. It warmed Adam to his core, calling to all of his memories of Percy and Camp Half-Blood, and calling to everything he'd done wrong, all the people he'd abandoned. He exhaled, the word on his breath. "Luke. _Yes_." The young man knew now.

It was so complicated! Luke was his name, but so was Adam. He knew both his mothers had tragic ends. He could recall the faces of his siblings, Winchester and godly kin. He remembered both of his lives in their entirety, their hardships and happiness clear in his mind. "That's me."

* * *

**AAAAAH YES. Miss me? I know it isn't very long, but I personally love this chapter above all the other ones I've written. Everything's going according to plan! (evil scientist laugh) MWAHAHAHA.  
**


	12. Please Please Me

**HEY GUYS. LONG TIME NO SEEEE! **

So here's the newest chapter. It should be longer than this, I know, but I literally just got over my block for this thing. Let me have a couple days to recollect and eat turkey and pretend that my ancestors didn't poison my other ancestors with yellow-fever-infested blankets and that they actually dined together.

_-_Mel

_Disclaimer_: This shit's Rick's.

* * *

Castiel was fuming.

He stepped away from the group of angels with a polite nod, signifying his understanding of their plans, and flew away with his heart pumping at two times the usual rate. His breath streamed out of his nose forcefully, and for a second, Castiel was worried that his vessel was having issues.

The piece of Jimmy Novak that still clung to the back of Castiel's consciousness muttered in dissent. _You're__angry,__Cas._Jimmy gave the angel the impression that this was something that was okay.

Instead, it disconcerted Castiel further than the calls he'd ignored through the entirety of the meeting he'd just attended with his kin. He was an angel, created eons before humanity. He didn't _feel_things the way Jimmy did. At least, he shouldn't.

All the same, he found his teeth gnashed together and his fingers curled into fists as he flew in the direction of Bobby Singer's junkyard.

_You __better __have __a __good __reason __for __this, __you __son __of __a __bitch. __Cas, __where __are __you?_ By now Castiel could hear Dean's voice clearly through Jimmy's ears, the timbre in his head dulling the closer he got to the human.

He landed with a scrape of shoes against gravel behind Dean, whose head still craned toward the sky, searching. "Dean. What do you want?"

It was more of a rhetorical question, really. Castiel knew exactly what Dean wanted—he had practically been yelling it in his ear for the last hour. Still, he watched the Winchester turn to him with a mutinous look on his face with some sort of raw satisfaction.

* * *

"What the hell took you?" Dean asked, voice straining. He'd been screaming at the sky for what felt like forever, it was alright for him to be hoarse, dammit. "What was so goddamn important?"

The look on Cas's face was hard and cold. "Believe it or not, _Dean_, there are more important things for me to deal with than you and your problems. Like, oh, I don't know, the _apocalypse_."

Dean was taken aback by the snark in the angel's tone, which obviously (if you knew the Winchesters at all) had to be thrown back with double the force. "Oh, really? How's that shit going? 'Cause I was pretty sure you needed _us_ for that."

Cas stared at him, and the ice blue of his eyes was frozen solid. "But that isn't what you called me here for."

Dean deflated at that. Cas was right about that. In the midst of their argument, the Winchester had almost forgotten what he was doing here in the first place. His heart thumped sadly in his chest. "We need help finding Adam."

"I know." Dean watched as Cas's shoulders, once up by his ears in defense, started to slump southwards in defeat. A defeated looking Cas was never a good sign, especially not these days when he was working the angelic side and also helping the hunters try and stop the end of the world. "But I'm afraid I can't give you that."

Dean swallowed hard, throat still sore and maybe a little blocked up. "What? Why?" He felt anger starting to swirl again in his stomach, but couldn't seem to summon it up. The thought of looking for his youngest brother without any help from upstairs seemed extremely bleak, and the set of Cas's shoulders told him he didn't like it much either.

"I truly am sorry, Dean, but there's nothing I—"

"Nothing you can do? You're an angel of the Lord for chrissakes!" Dean felt that stirring of anger burst up without any time to stop it. "You have to do something!"

Cas stopped him with a look. "I did."

"What?"

"I did. I made sure to leave him somewhere safe." Cas looked up at Dean, and even though there was only a crappy old streetlight to shine down on the entirety of Bobby's junkyard, the angel's eyes were glowing. "You have to promise me you won't go looking for him."

"What am I gonna tell Sammy?"

Cas reached a hand out to touch Dean's left shoulder. The handprint scar tingled. "Promise me."

Dean's throat was raw. Whether it was because of the yelling, or because of the giant lie he was about to get himself into, he didn't know. "I promise."

* * *

To say Percy wanted to drown himself was maybe a little bit dramatic, but it sure as hell was accurate.

The thing was, he would never be able to. Fate's funny like that.

Ha-ha-fucking-ha.

He could deal with all the shit that happened to him before. The Minotaur, the Sea of Monsters, the Titans and the Labyrinth. That he could all conceptualize easily now. It happened, and that's it, basically.

But things aren't supposed to re-happen. It happens once and then it's over, like getting your polio vaccine or your first kiss. It doesn't seem all crappy when it's over and done with. Instead, history seemed to be repeating itself. He was getting that vaccine over and over and over again, needle jabbing into his arm so many times he couldn't feel his shoulder anymore. He was reenacting his shitty first kiss with all the slobbering and the ill-placed tongues and the awkwardness in an endless loop. And it was torture.

The thing was, Luke was supposed to be dead. It had been far easier to know that he was dead, his ashes spread to the wind and his soul kicking it in Elysium like he deserved. He'd been able to mourn and come to terms with the fact that he had kind of fallen in love with the guy along their incredibly fucked up way.

And then there was Adam; sarcastic, funny, flirting Adam, who seemed to wander here by mistake and who blushed at times that Luke wouldn't bat an eyelash at. The kid was so obviously not Luke in so many ways (except the face)—until he was.

Percy flipped over on his bunk and put his face into the pillow. Maybe he could smother himself. That might work.

His ears refused to let themselves be covered though, and they stood right at attention at the sound of a creaking floorboard. One of Percy's hands scrambled for Riptide, capped under his pillow. He didn't get a chance to pull the sword out, stopped by a voice. "Percy."

Percy's breath refused to move in and out of his lungs, paused by the sound of that oh-so-familiar voice that had been haunting him so readily for the past few weeks. A sob threatened to claw its way out of his mouth. "Please. Please don't."

"Percy, please."

He felt warm tears streaking onto his pillow. "I can't talk to you." His heart, the traitorous bitch, thrummed in his chest, begging, crying _please, __please, __please __do._ It felt as if there was a black hole somewhere between his lungs that was dragging everything in, pulling at his insides and tearing them up piece by piece.

A hand threaded its fingers into the hair at the back of Percy's head. "Then don't." Luke-Adam's voice sounded like he was struggling to maintain his own composure, rough and confused as hell but mostly just irrevocably sad. "Just don't make me leave."

Percy squeezed his eyes shut. He forced his fingers to unclench their grip around Riptide and to loop around Adam's wrist underneath his jacket.

The anchor of skin on skin seemed to yank the demigod away from the black hole and back into regular desperation. Adam's arm was warm under his hand, his pulse beating hard in the veins near his hand. He didn't have to say anything. _You're__not__leaving._

* * *

_I eat reviews for dinner. _:D


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